The Brother Word Processor was my friend
my first year out of college.
It was a small beast that sat
on a chair in the corner of my room
when not in use,
which was seldom.

It printed, if not the first play
I wrote, the one I had most contention with
sharing and convincing anyone to produce.

“I don’t know how we’d stage it,” said a friend
who, at the time, hadn’t had his artistic directorship
minted, and was wasn’t about to take chances on an experimental
work inspired by Sam Shepard’s Tooth of Crime.

The Brother died many years ago,
but the play still has potential,
given the right attention
to casting and the enthusiasm
for set and sound design.

I hope I saved it to a flash drive.